The Fremans.

In hindsight, I should not have been surprised as to how a logging crew would know of the Paper millers. But what I was not expecting, was that the Freman family were all Niggers.

The Head of the family was a Mr. Lawrence Freman, a tall, lanky man of little hair but bright of eye. His wife, Therese,was an equally tall woman and what hair she may have had was hidden under some cloth wrappings. Their sons, Phillip and Jacob, were almost identical, only distinguishable by the color of their eyes. Jacob with his father's blue eyes and Phillip with his mother's green.

I admit, that separate from their race, I had expected that the Martins shared a similar relationship to each other, in the way that the Coopers and the Owens have, but I am happy to say that I was mistaken. They seemed to be a perfectly normal, or at least what those not from Madosin might call normal, family. "And with regards to how... free the other people are here, with their... physical intimacies," I continued, speaking with Mr. Freman, while the rest of his family were otherwise occupied, "you don't have any sort of... discomfort? Or... unease about them?"

He pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... Therese and I are... not fond of those sort of thing being so... free, to use your word," he replied, before crossing his arms and letting out a short sigh, "but, they treat us fair. Which is more than I can say for any other place around these parts. So, if all that costs is us keeping whatever we feel about whatever they're doing to ourselves, then our lips are sealed."

"Does that therefore mean that you agree with how things are done here?"

"No. Not at all," he said, shaking his head, "But we understand that that's how they choose to live their lives. And we choose to respect their decision to be lechers and perverts. And they show us the same respect, by not forcing us to partake in their activities." Taking a breath, he looked me in the eye, and said evenly, "With respect, Mr. Mckay, but someone like yourself wouldn't understand how important the ability to 'Choose' is. My grandfather didn't get a chance to 'Choose'. My father didn't get a chance to 'Choose', but my family does. And I will be damned, if I let anything take that away from them."

I could only nod. He was right. There was nothing I could say to add to that. "And what about your boys? The younger would have just about come of age, wouldn't he? Are you concerned that the other people's lifestyle might influence them? Or that they might not find any suitable women here to marry?"

Mr. Freman let out a long sigh. "I can only hope. Therese and I have done all we can to raise them the way that we'd like them to end up, but..." he sighed again, "I fear that this place may have already sunk some claws into them." Looking over his shoulder, his wistful look turned into a frown. "And now they've vanished again. Mr. McKay, might I trouble you for a favor?"

I looked from him, to his equipment and machines, and then back to him, "I would, but I'm untrained in this sort of thing, I'm afraid," I responded, trying to not sound too disrespectful.

"Not what I meant, Mr. McKay." Pointing towards the river by his mill, he said, "If you follow this upstream, you'll come up to a spring. If I know my boys, that's where they'll be. Could I ask you to go and fetch them for me? I would myself, but now I have to do their share until they come back."

Telling him that it would be no trouble at all, I thanked him for his time, asked him to send my regards to his wife, and set off along the river as directed, staying in the shade of the forest to escape the worst of the afternoon sun.